“Yes, I tell mother,” broke in the husband, “that we must never lose sight of our blessings; in fact, they are all such, though often in disguise.”

At that moment Sorrow looked in at the open door.  It was so seldom that she was recognized that she longed to enter.

“You have a friend out there:  ask her in,” said the woman.

Joy turned and motioned her sister to enter.  She came in softly, and sat beside Joy, while the woman spoke of her family, at the desire of each of the sisters to know of her causes of happiness.

“Yes, they are all blessings in disguise,” she said, “though I could not think thus when I laid my fair-eyed boy in the grave; nor, later, when my next child was born blind.”

“Had you none other?” asked Joy.

“One other, and she died of a broken heart.”

Sorrow sighed deeply, and would rather have heard no more; but Joy wished to hear the whole, and asked the woman to go on.

“Yes, she died heart-broken; and these two girls are hers.  It was very hard that day to see the hand of God in the cloud when they brought the body of her husband home all mangled, and so torn that not a feature could be recognized; and then to see poor Mary, his wife, pine day by day until we laid her beside him.”

“But the blessing was in it, mother:  we have found it so.  They have only gone to prepare the way, and we have much left us.”

The words of the old man were true, and it was beautiful to see the face of his wife as it glowed with recognition.

At that moment the sisters threw back their veils.  Such a radiant face was never seen in that cottage as the beaming countenance of Joy; while that of her sister was dark and sad to look upon.

“Oh, stay with us,” exclaimed the girls to Joy, as the sisters rose to depart.

“Most gladly would I, but I have a work to perform in your village; and, beside, I cannot leave my sister.”

“But she is so dark and sad, why not leave her to go alone?” said the youngest girl, who had never seen Sorrow nor heard of her mission to earth before.

Sorrow was standing in the door and heard her remark.  She hoped the day would never come when she should have to carry woe to her young heart; but her life was so uncertain she knew not who would be the next whom she would have to envelop in clouds.  She sighed, plucked a rose, and pressed it to her nostrils, as though it was the last sweetness she would ever inhale.

“How I pity her!” said the grandmother, her warm, blue eyes filling with tears, as she looked at the bowed form in the doorway.

“Ah, good woman, she needs it; for few recognize her mission to them.  She is sent by our master to administer woes which contain heavenly truths, while I convey glad tidings.  I shall never leave my sister save when our labors are divided.”

Thus spoke Joy, while tears filled the eyes of all.